Personal
by Zauberer S
Summary: “What do we do now, Riza?” Spoilers for manga 38-39. Roy. Hawkeye. What they almost lost. (RoyHawkeye)


Copyright Hiromu Arakawa, not me.

Spoilers for manga #38-39.

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**personal**

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Everytime Roy twitches a bit in pain Hawkeye´s body contracts, too, a reflex act.

Today is no exception and she has to concentrate not to actually stare at Roy all the time, as if making sure he is alright, and she has to concentrate so that Roy wouldn´t catch her staring.

(she finds herself looking at him at the oddest times, monitoring him from the corners of her eyes, like a ghost that would vanish if you blink)

_Echo_: she can feel the pain under her ribs, her side, just where his wound should be.

But she can´t resent him for being injured.

And then again...who would she resent?

(she knows the answer, that´s why it´s so hard staying around Roy these days)

She already knows the answer and there is an uneasiness whenever she and Roy talk, or look at each other, a tension that wasn´t there before and Roy has been trying to find a word for it but at the same time is afraid to because he is afraid of hoping.

Because hope brings deception, most of the time, (he has learned).

As for Hawkeye... she only wants the day to be over, so she can get away from this office. Get away from him.

"First lieutenant... can you stay and help me look over this paperwork for grammar and spelling."

Her body freezes and her mouth hangs half-opened, as if she´s thought of saying "no", for a brief moment.

(lately she is wary of staying alone with him, when the uneasiness becomes more evident, and the guilt uncurls in her stomach –and it´s harder to avoid his eyes)

The stack of paper falls almost like a lifesaver, something she can fix her gaze and mind upon and pretend Roy is not there.

When he is about to take his seat pain flashes across his body (white, so pure that Roy can even taste it in his mouth) and he reaches for his side. Once the pain ends (and it still ends too late) he looks up to see Hawkeye still grimacing at the gesture.

Roy smiles.

(he smiles in that special way of his that tries to tell _it´s nothing_, _nothing really_, but what it really tells you is that he has spent countless times in his life under the rain, alone)

"It´s okay. It´s not your fault."

(the memory of Roy bleeding on her sticks like the blood did on his skin, and sometimes she thinks she still can smell it, no matter how many showers she takes, the scent doesn´t go away

_she wonders if it ever will_)

"But it is. It was."

Retracting her words (only she can´t), realizing how serious and meaningful sounded, she concentrates on the paper again.

"You take it personally."

"I don´t."

He gets up, but this time there is no flinch of pain, Hawkeye wonders if there isn´t or if he hides it oh so very well for her sake.

For a moment Hawkeye loses concentration on the paper, and the lines of ink blur.

"When you fall on your knees crying, with no will to live anymore because you think your superior is dead... then I say it´s personal. I´m sorry for making it personal for you, too."

She stands up, too, an involuntary reaction as well. He shouldn´t be saying those things.

So near.

When she stands Hawkeye realizes how near he is now.

(it´s only then when she catches the last word)

"Too?"

Roy ignores her and takes up his habit of talking to somebody as if he was talking to himself – or talking to himself while pretending to have a conversation, but companions are only witnesses.

"But I´m glad that I know. That now I know. I thought it was my heart I was risking, alone."

_Knowledge is a burden_, Roy thinks casually, as if the ambivalence amuses him, his own ambivalence towards the situation, and how somebody can feel guilty and hopeful at the same time.

"Sir..."

Her voice is small and fading at the edges.

(_sir_, she says formally, there is irony and they appreciate, the way she uses it like shield, _sir_, and that´s the distance between you and I, _sir_, and that´s what separates you and me.

_sir_

professional)

"What do we do now, Riza?"

Her breath and her words catch in her throat as she hears her name on his lips. He says it carelessly but slow, accentuating the "z" so that she´d notice the change.

_The shift of perspective_.

Professional.

Personal.

(Roy is something altogether different, he doesn´t fit in any definition, Hawkeye admits finally, and so she falters, hesitates.

The words come out all broken and messed up.)

"What do we do about what?"

_What do we do, what do we do_... Roy taps his fingers on the desk and corners her, with his body bigger and wamrth and almost touching her, as much as Hawkeye tries to back off, but there is no more space, no more room to breath.

All that´s left for her is to look him in the eyes (it´s been days since she´s been able to do that) and let him take her hand on his, hoping he won´t notice it´s shaking.

"Well, I´m in love with you and I beginning to flatter myself that you are not entirely indifferent to me so..." There is a pause –her heartbeat thudding obsecenely so that he almost smiles-, which he uses to touch her hair where a strand got free, she´s been careless with her appearence lately. "If I ask you out... Would you go on a date with me, first lieutenant?"

Another pause. (Roy always knew he would end up hanging to her every word).

Then, very calmly, she takes her chair again, looks down and clears her throat.

"Inconceivable."

"What?

"You´ve misspelled inconceivable´, sir."

She points out the precise spot in the paper. That puts a stupid (he suspects) grin on his face, for he couldn´t be bothered to feel embarrased by the mistake.

Roy has the feeling that if he just keeps looking at her a little longer Hawkeye would smile back at him.

"Whatever," he dissmisses it and silently orders her to go back to the papers.

He can wait.


End file.
